


Holding On and Letting Go

by thesalmondean



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Also sort of AU, M/M, Malex, What-If, alexmanesweek2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 07:23:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18751732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesalmondean/pseuds/thesalmondean
Summary: What if, when Jesse Manes burst in on Alex and Michael in the tool shed, he'd smashed Alex's hand instead? What if, instead of Alex, it was Michael who enlisted in the Air Force?





	Holding On and Letting Go

**Author's Note:**

> Written for alexmanesweek2019 on tumblr. Day 5 prompt, 'what if' (with a side of AU thrown in for good measure!).

"Alex."

Alex froze, his hands hovering over the ‘artifacts’ he was in the process of rearranging, attempting to make room for some new thing Grant had found on the dark web that he wanted to add to the display.

That voice. _His_ voice; it sent an electric energy traveling up the length of him - from the tips of his toes to the tips of his fingers and back again. Alex had forgotten how much he'd missed it. Both the voice and the feeling it elicited; he'd forgotten how much he’d suppressed the loss, how well he’d been able to ignore the giant hole in his chest that had appeared when Michael had left.

Alex turned, slowly, preparing himself to set eyes on him again, the first time in almost four months.

“You’re back.”

He must have come straight from the airport, because he was dressed in fatigues, a giant duffel and an overstuffed camo print backpack both lying discarded at his feet. His hair was cut short, what used to be a wild mess of curls now tamed and combed back from his face. Alex involuntarily flexed his right hand, the memory of the feel of Michael's curls in his fingers overwhelming him.

"I'm back," Michael echoed, his expression slightly clouded, his brow slightly furrowed, his tone cautious.

Alex felt a pang of guilt, though he wasn’t sure why. He wasn’t the one who’d run away… Still, he took a step toward Michael, pulling the visor off his head and tossing it to the ground as he flashed back to their first kiss. It wasn't lost on him that they were in the same section of the museum, the same cheesy displays surrounding them. Really the only thing different now was them.

"How are you?" Michael's eyes flickered from Alex's face to his hand and back again.

Alex, who had only just had the cast removed from his hand a week prior, raised his left hand up and slowly flexed his fingers, internalizing the dull, lingering ache, ignoring the tightness in the tendons from the permanent scar tissue that would prevent him from ever pursuing a career in music...

The surgeon had only been able to do so much...the damage had been extensive.

"I'm okay," he replied, dropping his hand and meeting Michael’s gaze.

It wasn't a lie, not really. He was okay. He was managing, anyway. His father was locked up and his brothers were coming around, being semi-supportive and growing more so as time passed. Alex was surviving, moving past the trauma. He certainly didn't intend to work at the UFO Emporium the rest of his life...he still had plans and dreams and they didn't seem as impossible anymore, even if he had to adjust his expectations to fit his new reality.

"I tried to write you," Michael said, dropping his shoulders and jamming his hands into his pockets before looking away, "so many times. But I didn't know what to say. I feel like that -," he turned his head back and nodded at Alex's injured hand, "- was entirely my fault. I shouldn't have ever stayed in that tool shed."

Michael’s hunched posture was in direct conflict with the authority and respect his uniform demanded and Alex, who had grown up surrounded by military and the supposed steely strength it implied, felt a pang of sadness.

Taking another small step towards Michael, lessening the distance between them, Alex shook his head, the sting of tears behind his eyes.

"This,” Alex lifted his scarred hand into the space between them, “wasn’t your fault. My dad is a homophobic monster. It was his fault. Only his fault," Alex's voice rose slightly, hoping Michael would understand...hoping Michael would know that he didn't blame him for what Jesse had done that day.

Michael nodded, but he looked unconvinced and that broke Alex's heart. It wasn’t fair, the amount of damage and destruction his dad had caused the last few months. It made Alex seethe with anger, and also regret.

Alex had spent weeks blaming himself after Michael left Roswell. He was convinced he was the reason –even after everything they went through after the day Jesse had found them – that Michael was just too traumatized to even look at Alex let alone be in the same town and so he bailed. It took Alex a long time, and the support of friends, to get over what his dad had done to him. Even if those friends still didn’t know who it was that had been with Alex the day Jesse barged in on them…

When Michael had left Roswell it had been sudden and unexpected, at least for Alex. After Jesse had attacked them in the shed, shattering Alex's hand with the hammer, they'd not seen each other for nearly a week. Alex had literally been in lock-down (recovering from surgery and downing painkillers). Even when he was finally lucid enough to go anywhere he wasn’t allowed out of the house. Jesse wouldn't let him leave and expressed to him, more than once, using all sorts of colorful and cruel slurs, that Alex was to keep his '%*#^ mouth shut' about what had happened. Not that anyone would believe it if Alex told. Jesse Manes was a pillar in the community. A respected military man who was third generation Roswell-ian.  

Alex knew the implied threat was real; the tone in his father’s voice more than enough to deter him from attempting to sneak out. Even when his father would pass out from drinking too much, Alex didn’t dare try to leave. His father had never hurt him so badly before, the majority of the violence at home prior to that day mostly verbal, with the occasional hard shove against a wall, or a direct punch to the gut; bruises that were easily hidden by clothes and always assumed to be the result of the occasional bullying he experienced at school. Alex had seen his dad mad before, but never as full of blinding rage as when he’d bust through the tool shed door. Alex attributed the excessive drinking, which was also new, to the violence of that day. He found himself hoping, as messed up as he knew it was, that his dad felt guilty for what he’d done.

Alex knew he’d never really know. Their relationship was too fractured; there was too great a power imbalance and too much disappointment directed towards Alex. His father would never deign to lower himself to admit any regret or shameful feelings regarding his behavior, and the fact Alex even wanted him too was his own burden to bear.

Then, about a week later and after one too many glasses of whisky at the Wild Pony, Jesse chose to drive the handful of miles home from the bar, causing an accident that killed three teenage girls, one of which was Rosa Ortecho.

Alex was finally free.

Alex left the house for the first time in a week on a mission to seek Michael out, and he found him at Sanders Auto. He’d just started working there right before the tool shed incident. Michael’s face, upon seeing Alex, was full of concern and relief and sadness and joy. Alex could read it all, because he felt all the same things. They’d embraced, holding each other for a long time. The news about Jesse was all over town, Alex didn’t doubt Michael knew. They didn’t talk much that day, which suited Alex fine. He wasn’t ready to face what had happened in the tool shed, or what his father had just been responsible for; he was fine with ignoring all of it for one blissful moment.

Things progressed rather quickly after that. Jesse was charged with three counts of vehicular homicide, pleading guilty (he had no other choice – there were multiple witnesses to his presence at the bar and Mimi DeLuca expressing gleefully all over town, to anyone who’d listen, how she’d happily testify to how many drinks Jesse consumed that night; not to mention, his blood alcohol level was well over the legal limit). The judge sentenced him three days after the accident; twenty years with an opportunity for parole after ten.

It was outrageous, the sentence he’d been handed down. He’d cost three young women their lives, and it seemed that wasn’t worth more than a guarantee of ten years prison time. Alex had gladly joined Liz and Arturo and the families of the other girls in protesting the sentence. But their protests didn't matter. The judge’s decision was final as he stated he’d taken into account the 'upstanding nature' of Jesse's life in Roswell (up to that point), as well as his 'outstanding service to this country' (even though he was shortly thereafter dishonorably discharged).

After the sentencing Alex had felt a deep pang of guilt for having never reported his abuse. His father might have been sent away for much longer if there’d been record of his cruelty; if everyone knew how disturbed and violent and homophobic he really was.

Alex also avoided the Crashdown after that, ashamed of his connection to the man who’d killed Liz’s sister. Even after he learned Liz had left town, deciding to skip graduation, he couldn’t bring himself to face Arturo. At least not yet.

Alex was 18 when his father was sent to prison - an adult by legal definition - so he was allowed to continue to live in the house where he'd grown up. His first night there without Jesse, he'd packed up all the photos and awards and ribbons and medals; everything military or Air Force related went into boxes and into the tool shed. Alex wouldn’t be returning there for escape; the tool shed was tainted with the violence of that day, and Alex’s reason for needing a place to escape was locked away. It was freeing, erasing his father from the house.

It was only a few days later, after Jesse's sentencing, that Alex asked Michael if he wanted to stay at the house, too. He didn't use the words 'move in', he just mentioned that there were a lot of empty bedrooms. Plenty of room for him to stay if he didn’t want to sleep in the back of his truck anymore.

Michael accepted Alex’s invitation, though hesitantly, making it very clear to Alex he was just crashing, and might decide to leave at any moment. That was fine for Alex; all he wanted was to know Michael was safe and had a place to go that wasn't the back of his truck.

They didn't kiss, or embrace, or even touch each other in any way for almost a month. In fact they didn’t even see each other all that much. Michael worked early shifts at Sanders, and Alex worked late shifts at the museum. When they did see each other it was usually just to sit in a comfortable silence, sometimes filled with idle chit chat, sometimes more meaningful words exchanged – though that was far more rare. Sometimes Alex would find Michael staring at his cast with a pained look on his face. Alex wanted to say something in those moments to alleviate what he assumed was Michael’s guilt, but Michael would quickly look away when he noticed Alex watching him, and Alex never could quite figure out the right words to say, anyway.

Some nights Michael wouldn’t come back to Alex’s at all. The first time Michael didn’t come back, Alex felt in a panic, imagining some Air Force pal of his dad’s having done something to him – even though Alex had no reason to think that. All the airmen that knew Jesse had been nothing but supportive of Alex, a few of their wives even bringing him some frozen meals.

As it turned out, Michael had gone to the Evans’ and so from that night forward, if Michael ever didn’t come back to the house, Alex had to assume he was with Max and Isobel.

It was hard, though. Being so near Michael but not touching him or kissing him. Even after the traumatic end to their first time, Alex wanted nothing more than to rekindle some of the innocent joy they’d had in their connection. Alex had never felt anything more powerful or more _right_ than that day with Michael. It was a feeling Alex supposed he might end up chasing forever and he could only hope he would find it again, or more specifically, that he would find it again with Michael.

But Michael kept his distance, and Alex didn't push, even though it was all he thought about. Even though late at night, alone in his bedroom, he would touch himself, letting his good hand wander all over his body while the memory of he and Michael played over and over in his head. Knowing Michael was on the other side of his bedroom wall made the want all the more powerful.

It was the Fourth of July holiday when things changed, when they finally came back together. They'd spent the day at the Evans'; Max and Isobel had hosted a barbeque and most of their graduating class was there. Alex hung out with Maria and they talked about the postcards they'd each received from Liz as she’d road tripped across the country (Liz also sending Alex a very nice letter telling him she didn’t blame him for his father’s actions, and saying she hoped they would see each other more when she returned. Alex felt somewhat healed after that letter). Michael, Alex quietly noted, spent most of the day huddled with a depressed looking Max.

When it had come out, after the accident, that Rosa had been Jim Valenti's daughter and not Arturo's, Liz had rescinded her invitation for Max to road trip with her and instead she'd taken Kyle. It’d seemed odd to everyone, but she'd insisted to Maria that it wasn't romantic, that she didn't think she could ever be with Kyle like that again, not after finding out the truth about Rosa. But Liz didn't talk about Kyle in her postcards, which made Alex doubt her resolve with regards to Kyle had held out. Maria had more faith in her, and teasingly chastised Alex for not thinking better of their friend. In any case, Max was a depressed mess over it all, and Michael was seemingly his emotional crutch.

It warmed Alex's heart to see Michael be there for his friend. Michael had a big heart and a caring nature and it was one of the things Alex liked best ( _loved_ ) about him. Even if he wished Michael were at his side instead of Max’s. But no one knew about them (and they weren’t even officially a ‘them’; they’d just had one magical, momentous night. It wasn’t Michael’s fault that it was all Alex could think about). It never seemed to be the right time to talk about it or confess it, either. So Alex held it in, trying not to stare too much or too long. Trying not to attract the attention of Maria, or Max, or Isobel. Trying not to let on he had fallen hard for Michael Guerin.

Alex sometimes thought Maria knew, just by the way she'd look at him, but she never asked. So 'museum guy' remained a mystery to her, and Alex continued to keep the more intimate details of that day to himself.

Things were noticeably different with Michael when they'd returned from the barbeque. Rather than retreat to the room he’d been sleeping in as he usually did, Michael followed Alex to his bedroom. Alex let him, curious and hopeful about what it meant, and when he turned to ask what was going on, Michael was on him, hands grabbing and pulling, lips hot and wet and hard and desperate and Alex let his question die on his lips as he eagerly accepted Michael's advances, his own hands grabbing and pulling until he had Michael held so close he could feel his pounding heartbeat against his own chest.

The clothes quickly come off, both Michael and Alex pulling and tugging and kissing every newly revealed patch of bare skin until they were both naked and hard and rubbing against each other and when Michael pulled back slightly to grip both he and Alex in his fist, pumping them together as he pressed heated kisses to Alex's neck and collarbone. Alex gasped, sparks of white spotting his vision.

Somehow they made it to the bed, Michael on top of Alex, his hips pressing and grinding and Alex felt like he might pass out because of how good it felt. It was good. So, so good. His memory of being with Michael nowhere near this level of intensity. His skin was on fire, his senses heightened so that every brush of lips on skin left a blazing trail of white hot nerves that sung out with pleasure. Alex let Michael take control of it all, happy and willing to be an instrument in his hands.

Alex hummed with pleasure as Michael’s touch traveled his body; he felt like he was floating in the clouds while simultaneously drowning in a vast sea of pleasure. When Michael stopped and pulled back, his face slick with a sheen of sweat and his pupil’s exploded wide with desire. Alex swore he could see straight into Michael’s soul. Alex felt himself lose his breath. The man was a vision and Alex wanted him always and forever.

"Are you okay?" Michael asked, his voice husky and thick.

"Don't stop," Alex nodded as he reached his good hand to cradle the back of Michael's head, threading his fingers into the thick mass of curls and pulling him down into a deep kiss. His injured hand was mostly forgotten, Michael's touch more of an effective painkiller than any pill could be.

When asked, Alex directed Michael to the bedside table for condoms and lube.

Michael moved to put the condom on Alex, a reversal from their first time. Alex grabbed his wrist to stop him, silently questioning if he was sure. Michael just grinned and winked, gently pulling his wrist from Alex’s grip and sliding the condom on before moving a loosely held fist up and down him a few times to tighten the condom. Alex closed his eyes while a soft moan escaped his lips; the sudden shock of cold startled him and when he opened his eyes he saw Michael squeezing ample amounts of lube on him, spreading it up and down his shaft before putting more on his fingers and applying it to himself. Alex wanted to ask him again if he was sure, if he was ready, but Michael moved too quickly, straddling Alex’s hips and lowering himself onto and then all unspoken words faded from Alex’s lips as he succumbed to the ecstasy of the feel of Michael all around him. Alex elicited a long, deep moan; Michael was so tight and felt so good.

When Michael’s weight had settled Alex opened his eyes and the expression he saw on Michael's face, the way his damp curls framed his face and stuck to his forehead almost brought Alex to tears. He was so beautiful, so open, so giving. His expression one of....love? Dare Alex even think it possible? They barely knew each other, could they even be in love already?

Michael’s features, soft and relaxed, tightened slightly when Alex shifted beneath him. But then Michael was the one moving, his hips rolling and his hands splayed out on Alex’s abdomen as they both moved with soft, breathy moans escaping both their mouths.

Alex felt it all, every slight shift and move. When Michael tightened around him he gasped loudly before sitting up and with his good hand he gently but urgently pushed Michael to the side, flipping him to his back so Alex was now on top.

They settled and Alex pulled back slightly before pressing in again. The soft moan that came out of Michael's mouth nearly sending Alex over the edge. He was so close already, he knew he had to go slower or he'd come before he’d even given Michael the chance to get there.

Alex laid down fully on top of Michael, pressing their bodies together as he let his good hand thread into Michael's hair. He rolled his hips, slowly moving in and out, pressing in as deep as he could, bolstered by the guttural pant of breath that came from Michael each time he did.

The very definition of heaven was how Alex felt at that precise moment.

Michael's legs shifted and he wrapped them around Alex, Michael’s hands lighting at Alex’s waist, then his ass, massaging and gripping and pulling Alex even closer - as if it were possible for them to be any closer.

"Harder," Michael groaned breathlessly, and Alex buried his head into the crook of Michael's neck with a grin, moving harder and faster.

Last time, their first time, had been sweet if not a little bit awkward and a little bit clumsy. That was okay, though. Neither of them had known exactly what they were doing and it took a little time for them to really figure out each other’s bodies.

But this time was NOT like last time. This time was pure desire unleashed; no awkwardness, no hesitation, no clumsiness. Michael knew all the right places to touch, and his boldness led Alex to respond in kind. But there was something more to it, too, and Alex could feel it. Michael was holding nothing back, and not just his sexual desires but his emotional desires, too. That was what made the look on his face so scary and exhilarating; in that moment Alex saw what he meant to him. He could read it in Michael’s eyes, in his smile, in his touch. Michael loved him - there was no doubt of it.

Alex's pace quickened, fueled by a young love that still contained all possibilities. An unwritten future stretched out in front of them.

Alex bit softly at Michael’s neck, his jaw, before capturing his mouth with a kiss he hoped conveyed the intensity of his emotions. He was so close, and even though he wanted to slow down to make sure Michael was with him, he couldn't. He needed to get there and the fact that Michael's voice was murmuring in his ear, encouraging him with soft punctuated groans to _go harder, go faster_ , wasn’t helping.

Panting and moaning together, Alex thought maybe they could actually come together but then he felt it building, cresting, he so moved to pull out but Michael held on to him, wrapping his legs tighter and gripping his ass harder. Alex had no time beyond that because then he was coming, groaning Michael's name and biting his neck and pumping his hips while the waves of orgasm washed over him. It was nearly more than he could take and he wondered if he'd pass out it felt so good...

It was over quickly, yet also seemed to go on endlessly. Slowly regaining his senses, he felt Michael, still hard, between them and even though he never wanted to separate their bodies again, even though he never wanted to remove himself from Michael’s embrace, he slowly pulled back, watching Michael's face and feeling oddly happy as Michael's expression clouded when Alex pulled out of him.

Pulling off the condom, Alex tied it off and tossed it to the floor before sitting back on his heels. He was still between his legs, Michael’s knees wide apart to accommodate Alex. Michael was hard, so hard, and Alex stared happily at the naked, open visage of Michael for a long moment before reaching out and griping him tight. Michael's reaction was instant as he sucked in a breath, his hips thrusting up and down and then he was fucking Alex's hand. Alex let him thrust, varying the pressure of his hand ever so slightly as Michael chewed on his lip and elicited soft, breathy moans.

They watched each other, eyes locked, Michael lifting his hips to push in and out of Alex's fist. It was almost more intimate than what just happened. When Alex relaxed his hand, releasing him, Michael stilled. Not speaking, they just stared.

Leaning down slowly, Alex pressed a kiss to the head of Michael’s cock and Michael sucked in sharply. Smiling, Alex took all of Michael into his mouth.

"Oh, fu-," Michael gasped, his hands flying to thread into Alex's hair and he's gripping and pressing and Alex is letting him fuck his mouth.

Alex worked his mouth on Michael, responding to the gasps and moans and the tightening grip of his hair. It didn’t take long before Michael loudly groaned, pushing Alex off him and coming, his chest now slick with more than sweat.

Michael’s eyelids were heavy as he slowly blinked; Alex watched him flutter them a few times before his eyes shifted and he peered up at Alex through his eyelashes. They looked at each other, their breathing slowing and evening out, matching. It wasn’t awkward, or embarrassing. It was comfortable, and felt…well, to Alex it felt like home.  

After a few minutes, Alex moved to get up, his shifting weight causing Michael to sit up and grab his arm.

"Don't go.”

"I'll be right back," Alex smiled, pulling away and heading to the bathroom, returning with a hot, wet washcloth.

Michael was lying back, but he sat up when Alex walked back into the room. Sitting on the edge of his bed, Alex gently pressed Michael back down onto his back before proceeding to wipe him clean with the cloth. Michael's hand was on Alex’s arm the whole time, feeling up and down and around, massaging his muscles, working around his shoulder and upper back. His hand wandered as far as it could reach, all while Alex gently cleaned him up.

It was a level of intimacy Alex didn’t think he'd ever get to experience, and certainly not with Michael. Their first time had been special, up to the end anyway, but for Alex their second time would be the one against which all other times would be measured. Alex knew that without a doubt. And he wondered if it would always feel so magical ( _Ethereal? Cosmic?_ ) when he and Michael were together. He hoped so...

"Thank you," Michael said, after Alex had cleaned him up.

They were lying together in bed, still naked, legs intertwined. Alex's head was resting on Michael’s chest, his left arm draped across Michael’s body. The weight of the cast on his hand pulling slightly and sending a dull ache up his arm, but it was nowhere near uncomfortable enough for Alex to relinquish the moment. He could live like this forever, safe in Michael’s embrace.

"It's no big deal," Alex responded sleepily, with a quiet yawn that elicited a soft, light laugh from Michael.

"I didn't mean about just now," Michael said softly after a stretch of silence, and from his position Alex could hear his heart rate quicken.

Alex nodded, squeezing Michael with his left arm and with a small smile he pressed a series of soft kisses to his chest.

"I'll treasure this night," Michael added, his hold on Alex tightening as a he pressed a kiss to the crown of his head.

"Me too," Alex replied, closing his eyes against Michael’s soft touch, his hand lightly tracing lines up and down Alex's back and he can’t remember, when he falls asleep, if he said the words out loud or just thought them; _‘this was the best night of my lift’_.

There's bright morning sunlight streaming through the window when Alex wakes up.

He felt satiated. Satisfied. A little sore in his legs. Stretching, he reached out but the bed beside him was cold and empty. Sitting up he listens but hears nothing other than the creaky quiet of the house around him. His bedroom door is ajar, and looking around his room Alex can’t see any of Michael's clothes. Climbing out of bed, Alex pulled on a pair of shorts, hurrying to the room where Michael had been sleeping only to find all his things gone.

Alex was confused. Hurt. Did he do something wrong? Walking back through the house, he found no trace that Michael had ever even been there. Returning to his bedroom he stood in the doorway looking around his room. That was when he finally noticed the note; the white paper blending in with the white pillowcase.

Walking slowly towards the bed, Alex felt apprehension start to creep in, unsure if he wanted to know what the note said or not.

He was scared to know.

But he has to know.

_Alex,_

_I meant what I said last night. I'll treasure our night together. But I have to go. I'm enlisting in the Air Force and ship out to boot camp today. I didn't want to tell you because I knew you'd try to talk me out of it and I really don’t think I could ever say no to you. Please take care of yourself. I will see you again. _

_Michael_

And that was the end of it. Until now.

They were standing roughly an arm’s length from each other, their positions reminiscent of their first kiss. Alex was having a hard time separating the memory of that day six months ago from the present. He felt like he should be saying to Michael _‘Okay, talk’_.

"Why'd you do it? Why'd you enlist?" Alex asked instead, not bothering to try and hide his hurt and confusion.

Michael's expression shifted, and he cast his eyes down. Alex hoped he felt guilty, at least a little.

Alex had spent days after Michael had left feeling angry. He felt lied to, and used. And he didn’t even have anyone he could talk to. He didn’t know what Max or Isobel knew; Liz was gone, but he couldn’t talk to her, or Maria, anyway because he’d never told them about Michael to begin with. He wouldn’t out Michael just because he’d been left feeling like a jilted lover. They weren’t boyfriends, they’d made no promises…but none of that was of any comfort to Alex, who still felt abandoned.

It had taken Alex a bit of time to move on; knowing Michael would be back, knowing without a doubt he’d see him again and have the chance to confront him about the way he left; that was what gave him the strength to move past the hurt. Or at least he’d thought he’d moved past it.

"I joined up to protect myself," Michael responded, looking up again and Alex could see pleading in his expression, he could see a yearning from Michael for him to understand.

But Alex didn't understand; this was all seemingly out of the blue. Michael had never spoken positively of the military, in fact he'd outwardly criticized it many, many times.

"To protect yourself from what?" Alex asked, apprehensively.

"I found something, when I was staying at your house," Michael paused, "In the tool shed. In your dad's stuff. A folder of old photographs from 1947. From the crash. The UFO crash. Photos of your grandfather."

"What?” Alex leveled an incredulous look, a smile playing on his lips because...this was a joke, right?

But Michael’s expression never wavered, and Alex felt the absurdity he felt about what Michael was saying fade. He was being serious, and Alex didn’t know what to make of that.

“Michael-," Alex arched his brow and sighed before looking down and shaking his head. Why would Michael go back to that shed? And why search through his dad’s stuff? And…UFO’s?

Alex felt a seed of anger start to blossom in his gut. If Michael couldn't even be honest with him...

"Alex," Michael took another step closer, his hand lifting Alex's chin so they were looking each other in the eye, "I'm serious."

And for whatever reason, Alex’s doubt began to fade and he started to believe him. He wasn't sure he believed the UFO part (though his granddad had been stationed in Roswell in the late 40s…), but he believed Michael's motivation; he believed Michael believed it and for the moment that was enough.

“Fine,” Alex sighed and Michael dropped his hand, “So? What does a UFO crash have to do with you, or joining the military? Do you actually believe in that stuff?”

Alex sensed he’d said the wrong thing as soon as the words were out of his mouth. There was a shift in Michael’s expression, microscopic though it was, and Alex saw it. His guard went up; not completely, but it was there. Alex could see hesitation in Michael’s expression.

“Sorry, I-,” Alex started but was cut off.

"I'm an alien, Alex. And if your dad ever gets out of prison, I'll be in a position to protect of us from him and anyone else who might want to hurt us."

“You’re…what? Us? Who is us?" Alex stumbled, choosing to ignore for the moment the giant bombshell Michael just dropped on him.

"Me. Max. Isobel," Michael said, slowly, and Alex stared, the realization all this was really happening starting to sink in, things beginning to make sense to him.

“We found out your dad was part of a secret military project studying the crash and when he got sent to prison it was the perfect opportunity to try and find out more,” Michael said, slowly, and Alex felt his heart sink.

Not because of the alien stuff – which to be honest was still too absurd to even wrap his head around – no, it was because that meant…

“Did you only stay with me so you could snoop through my dad’s stuff?” Alex took a step back, his resolve crumbling as his heart started to crack. He’d been invested, he’d had real, true feelings for Michael and if it turned out they weren’t really reciprocated…well Alex wasn’t sure he could handle that.

“No. No!” Michael started to shuffle closer, but stopped when Alex held up his hands.

“No. I didn’t,” Michael clenched his jaw.

“Okay, maybe at first that was the plan, but I stayed because I wanted to. I found that stuff the first night I was there. I could have left right then, but I stayed. I stayed. For you.”

Alex crossed his arms and leveled a hard stare at Michael, trying to make sense of the changes in him. The Michael standing before him had gone through basic training; had been brainwashed by the US military complex. Alex might not be in, but he knew how it went. His dad was in (or had been), his brothers were all in. He’d seen firsthand how they’d each been changed after going through basic.

But Michael…the longer Alex stared the more he saw the same Michael he knew four months ago; the one he’d always known. The one he’d had the greatest night of his life with.

"I’ll always stay for you. And come back for you. And protect you," Michael added, "I'll always be here to protect you from him or anyone else. I refuse to ever let anything like that,” Michael indicated to Alex’s hand, “happen again."

"Alien?" Alex questioned, trying to hide the ridiculousness he felt in saying the word; seeing Michael stiffen slightly before he nodded, never breaking eye contact with Alex.

"I’ll tell you everything I know," Michael said softly, arm reaching out to gently grip Alex's bicep, and when Alex didn’t pull away he smiled.

_Aliens. An alien. Michael._

Alex softened, relaxing his posture and arching his brow slightly.

The one thing Alex knew beyond a shadow of a doubt was he didn't want Michael to leave again. He didn't want Michael to walk away, or look away, or stop touching him. Alien or not, it was Michael, and that trumped everything else.

Michael let go of Alex's arm and Alex immediately reached out to grasp Michael's hand in his, rubbing his thumb over the soft skin on the back of his hand. Alex looked at their hands, Alex’s showing the visible scars of the physical damage from their first time together, Michael’s showing the undetectable scars of a possible coming war, the potential scars of the unknown future that lay ahead of them.

"Okay," Alex breathed, looking up to meet Michael's gaze again.

Alex was nervous, and curious. He was scared. Not of Michael (or the others) but of the unspoken intention behind Michael being in the Air Force and what that might mean. Alex was scared _for_ Michael. And he hoped he was making the right decision; he hoped they both were making the right decision.

And even if they still barely knew each other, Alex knew enough ( _Michael was an alien! That was huge!_ ). Alex knew he was safe with Michael and that Michael would never hurt him or allow him to be hurt; Alex knew Michael was safe with him, and apparently Michael knew that too. It made Alex feel so incredibly happy to know Michael trusted him enough to reveal such a big secret to him.

"Okay?"

Alex nodded, a small smile playing on his lips as he watched Michael's eyes move down to his mouth then back again.

"I love you, Alex," Michael murmured softly, invading Alex's personal space as he wrapped his arms around him and kissed him softly, tenderly.

Alex wanted to say it back, but thought he'd just enjoy the kiss first. There'd be time to say it back after.

**Author's Note:**

> As soon as I started to write this I knew there was potential for a multi-chapter fic. I won't start another multi-chapter until my current one is done, but if anyone thinks this could (or should) be expanded I *might* be up for it. Let me know what you think. I'm on tumblr at [apositivelifeaffirmingway](https://apositivelifeaffirmingway.tumblr.com/) if you'd like to come see me over there!


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